


Tea and Toast

by aurora_australis



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Breakfast, F/M, Fluff, MFMM Smutuary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 06:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17699498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: Jack and Phryne have finally,finallytaken the next step in their developing relationship, and as the sun rises the next morning, Phryne is thrilled.So why is Jack unhappy?Part of MFMM's Smutuary Fanfic Challenge.





	Tea and Toast

**Author's Note:**

> So the ever wise Allison_Wonderland has created a brand new fanfic challenge - [Smutuary](https://ohrosewhatsinaname.tumblr.com/post/182110065731/the-holidays-are-over-ficathon-posting-is-winding). It is a brilliant idea and since I was _assured_ that “all romance and fluff, regardless of rating, is accepted” I decided it was probably ok if I played too. But since I can’t actually write proper smut to save my life, maybe consider this the shallow end of the pool you can wade into before getting to the more fun stuff down by the diving boards. ;-)
> 
> There are still prompts left, so check out the link and sign up!
> 
> The prompt for this story is “Breakfast.”
> 
> Many thanks to Sarahtoo for the beta read!

It had not happened the way either of them had predicted.

She had assumed they would race directly from the airfield to her boudoir once she’d returned from London, a natural continuation of the waltz they’d begun so many months before.

He felt a more thoughtful, romantic approach was best. Dinner. Maybe dancing. Declarations of affection. Declarations of love if he was feeling bold enough.

In the end they were both wrong.

Nothing happened at the airfield. Nor at her welcome home party. Nor for weeks after. A couple of dinners were planned, but then either canceled or interrupted for case related reasons. Phryne didn’t want to be overdramatic, but she was beginning to worry that the universe had it out for them. Jack just wondered if perhaps they’d missed their moment. And as the weeks dragged on, they were both, perhaps, becoming resigned to it. So when she stopped by his bungalow one evening with new evidence and a new theory, a romantic liaison was the last thing on either of their minds.

At first.

It had been an accident, his spilling tea on her sleeve. He’d been tremendously apologetic and she’d waved off the incident without thought. But then he’d insisted on checking her arm for burns. As he carefully undid the button on her sleeve, and rolled the material up to examine her skin, his fingers gently traced the veins on her wrist, and it was like the ember that had been there all along, quietly smoldering out of sight, was suddenly doused in petrol. The ember was fanned into a full blown blaze before either of them quite knew what was happening. 

It was not a waltz and declarations were not made. It was simpler than that. It was two people who had been standing on a precipice of a cliff for ages, who finally decided to just hold each other and… fall.

Technically, they fell twice. 

And in the morning, instead of feeling like she’d been dashed upon the rocks, Phryne just felt happy. At peace. She’d landed safe upon the shore, and so had he, and wherever they went from here, they were going there together. Reaching out to greet him in this new world, however, she was met only with linen, cold now from the lack of him.

Phryne frowned at his absence, then looked around for something to wear. Spying his deep blue pajamas - worn enough that she presumed they were his favorite - she grabbed the top, buttoned it up against the chill in the air, and made her way out into the hall to track down her missing Inspector. 

It turned out to be one of her easier cases, as she found him moments later in the kitchen, sitting at his table, a tray with tea and toast set up before him. He was wearing his dressing gown and slippers, which she thoroughly enjoyed the look of, and a frown, which she did not.

“Good morning,” she called softly from the door. He looked up at the sound and then very obviously took in the sight she made - tousled hair and sleep lines on her face, wearing nothing but his favourite pajama top. He swallowed hard at the sight, and the frown disappeared. 

“Good morning,” he said, smiling up at her, though there was still a tightness around his eyes.

“I have to say, I was a little disappointed to wake up alone this morning,” she teased gently, walking over to stand next to him. She brushed a stray lock of hair from his face and he reached up to take her hand, placing a kiss on the palm before releasing it.

“My apologies, Miss Fisher. I thought perhaps you might like breakfast.”

“Well then, you’re forgiven. Provisionally.”

He nodded at that but did not tease her back, tapping his finger on the table absentmindedly.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” she asked finally, taking a seat next to him at the table.

“Nothing,” he insisted.

“Liar,” she said, crossing her arms, her voice brooking no argument. “Out with it.”

Jack sighed. “Fine. Last night was... a surprise,” he said.

“It was,” she agreed with a smile that slowly disappeared as a thought occurred. “Do you... regret it?” 

“No!” he said quickly. “No. It’s just,” Jack shook his head and rolled his eyes at himself. “I had plans.” 

“Oh darling, if that was you improvising, I look forward to getting a peek at the manual.” 

Jack rolled his eyes again, but this time at her. 

“For _breakfast_. I had plans for breakfast.”

“Oh?” she asked, intrigued.

“Mmmm. I had a plan for when - _if_ \- ”

“When,” Phryne assured him with a knowing smile. He smiled back and nodded. 

“ _When_ this happened, I was planning to make you breakfast.”

Phryne’s eyebrows furrowed and she gestured to the tray before her. “And you did,” she said, confused.

“No, _proper_ breakfast.”

Phryne cocked her head to the side and smiled, still a bit puzzled but appreciative of his thoughtfulness all the same.

“Oh I see. Do you often make… ‘proper breakfast’?” she asked. “For yourself, I mean.”

“No,” he admitted. “Usually just tea and toast. Kumquat marmalade if I’m feeling especially ambitious,” he added with a small downturned smile.

“Then…” she made a vague sort of gesture with her hands, and the unspoken question, _why_ , hung unsaid in the air.

Jack sighed again and tried to articulate his thoughts.

“Because this is special,” he told her. “ _You_ are special. Our first breakfast together is special. And I wanted to, I don’t know, acknowledge that? Make sure you knew?” 

He ran his hand through his gorgeous yet-to-be pomaded hair and she momentarily forgot to pay attention to his words. He sighed again and brought her focus back to the conversation. “God, this all sounds ridiculous now that I’m saying it out loud.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” she said quietly, his consideration suffusing her with warmth. Phryne understood - she _knew_ him. How like Jack Robinson to choose an action, however simple, over words to acknowledge this monumental shift in their relationship. And how like him also to worry when it hadn’t gone to plan. 

Well, that wouldn’t do at all.

Phryne leaned back in her seat, languidly crossed her arms, and raised an elegant eyebrow at him. “You do know, however, that this isn’t technically our first breakfast together. I’ve been stealing your toast for ages.”

He grunted in acknowledgment. “That’s true.”

She picked up the tea cup he hadn’t been drinking from and took a sip. It shouldn’t - and didn’t - surprise her that he knew exactly how she took her tea, but all the same it was nice to be reminded how well he knew her too.

“So… what was the plan then? If you don’t mind my asking. Seeing as how you so seldom make ‘proper breakfast’.”

In the early morning light she could swear she saw a blush creep up his ears.

“I, uh, I’ve been expanding my repertoire. Since you left, I mean.”

“In preparation?” She let out a cackle at the notion, then grinned up at him. “Oh Jack, I do like a man with a plan. How?”

“How?”

“How did you ‘expand your repertoire’?”

“I _can_ read a cookbook, Miss Fisher. I also have a mother and a sister, both of whom were delighted to teach me a few new staples. They worry, you know.” He hooked his foot around the leg of her chair and pulled closer her to him. “Poor lonely bachelor and all that,” he reminded her, slipping a warm hand over her bare knee and softly stroking her skin with his fingers.

“Yes, poor you,” she said sarcastically. “So what was to be on the menu?”

“Well…” he cocked his head and pretended to consider the question, though she could plainly see that he knew exactly what he had planned to make. “Bacon, definitely. Grilled tomatoes and mushrooms. Folded eggs over toast and sausages if I had time. Oh and my sister’s lemon ricotta hotcakes with honey butter because, honestly Phryne, they are just amazing and you have to try them.”

Phryne smiled at the way Jack’s face light up describing the food. Some things never changed. “I can’t wait,” she told him, sorry to see the smile disappear from his lips as she did.

“But of course, we’ve been so busy working the Monroe murder this week, I haven’t had a chance to get to the shops, and so all I have on hand is…”

“Tea and toast,” she finished. “Which one is yours?” she asked. He indicated the piece of toast closest to him and she reached over and filched it, winking as she took a bite. He shook his head and barked out a laugh, but the tightness was still around his eyes.

“This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” she said, putting down the toast and turning to face him fully.

“I guess it is.” He shrugged his shoulders which momentarily removed his hand from her leg, but it was back again before she could protest the loss.

“Why?” She fixed him with a serious look, trying to make sure he could see that she was telling the truth. “I really am perfectly happy with tea and toast, Jack, and I’m sorry if I’ve given you the impression that I require more.”

“No, no, that’s not it. It’s just… I don’t know. This,” he waved his free hand vaguely between them, “was never going to be traditional, and that’s fine. That’s good. For us, I mean. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have it done _right_. And I didn’t do any of the rest of it right. No romantic dinner, no wine, no candlelight. I didn’t even have a chance to tell you I love you first. All you got was spilled tea and - ”

“You love me?”

He stopped short and shot her an incredulous look. “That cannot be news.”

“No,” she admitted, “but you’ve never said it.”

“Would you like to hear it?” he asked sincerely.

She shrugged, fooling absolutely no one with the casualness of the gesture.

Jack tilted his head, then clasped her fingers with one hand, tucking her hair behind her ear with the other.

“Phryne Fisher, I love you. And in the interest of doing things right, I would very much like to show you how much by continuing to investigate with you, and flirt with you, and argue with you, and make love to you, and prepare you mediocre breakfasts for the foreseeable future.”

She raised the hand holding hers to her lips for a kiss before adding her own slightly amended vows. 

“Jack Robinson, I love you, too. And in the interest of doing things the right way _for us_ , I would very much like to show you by continuing to tease you, and work cases with you, and exasperate you, and have nightcaps with you, and steal your toast for the foreseeable future.”

Jack nodded, smiling wide, his face open and full of love, and raised his teacup in silent toast. She did the same and they clinked their cups together. Then he used the hand still holding hers to pull her from her seat onto his lap.

She sat there for a moment, sipping her tea and enjoying his toast, her free hand lazily playing with the sash on his robe.

“You know Jack, if it’s still bothering you, there is a solution to breakfast.”

“What’s that?” he asked, the hand he had put back on her knee sliding slightly further up her leg to toy with the hem of her - his - pajama top.

“Improve on it.”

Shaking his head, he pulled her in for a kiss, his hands tangled in her hair, and the taste of butter and tea on his lips. 

“When?” he asked, after he finally pulled away.

“As often as possible,” she told him, removing herself from his lap and tugging on the sash to pull him to his feet. “And I have a few ideas about an improper breakfast too, if you’re interested.”

“Miss Fisher, are you trying to start something at the breakfast table? How cheeky. We don’t even have the pretext of spilled tea to get you out of your clothes this time.”

Without breaking eye contact, Phryne reached down and knocked over her almost empty teacup, the small amount of liquid spilling across the table.

“Oops,” she said. Then she turned and started walking back to the bedroom, unbuttoning the pajama top as she went. Jack saw it hit the floor just as she disappeared from view.

With a final swig of his tea, Jack set off at a brisk pace down the hall, quite happy to dive off that cliff with her again, this morning and for the foreseeable future.


End file.
